


A day in the life of a bodyguard

by Matloc



Series: Nichijou [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi is basically Koko Hekmatyar laughs, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Daily Life!AU, M/M, i am become death destroyer of good akkr, wholly inspired by Jormungand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matloc/pseuds/Matloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko regrets entering this line of profession, especially with Akashi as his employer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A day in the life of a bodyguard

**09:03:05**

The timer beeped 3 minutes ago. They’re already running late for their next appointment. Kuroko sighs, wiping his cheek with a white handkerchief. He was hoping for a quiet morning today. It was naïve of him to expect even a moment’s reprieve in this line of duty. At least it’s not too hard, he thinks as he waits for his breathing to even out. His stamina, on the other hand, leaves room for improvement.

On the other side of the door sits Akashi Seijuurou like a king overlooking his realm. Though the only thing in front of him right now will share the fate of an irritating housefly in a matter minutes.

“Oh? Gotou-san is looking rather stiff.” Akashi regards him with considerate eyes.

They glint dangerously in the shadows.

“Or could it be you are unable to let your guard down around a man your wonderful wife couldn’t help spill all your secrets to?” He leans back, his champagne sparkling as it swishes around in his glass. “I must say… she was charming company.”

The other man bangs a fit on the hardwood table, jumping from his sofa. “You son of a—”

A second’s delay in his reaction to Akashi’s words is what saves the man from getting his face blown off.

“I humbly suggest you go back to your seat, Gotou-san,” says a soft voice out of nowhere.

Akashi purses his lips in boredom, watching the man frantically search for the source. His wide eyes land on a small figure standing at the doorway and he nearly bites his tongue in shock.

“Ah, you must forgive Tetsuya.” Akashi tilts his head, smiling in the intruder’s direction. “He’s new.”

The blue-haired man ignores Akashi, locking eyes with the other occupant who flinches. "Excuse me, Gotou-san, but your men were running around.“

Gotou Masamune, one of the biggest names in the underworld, a big, bulky man, is driven close to tears as Kuroko drops the corpse he’s been carrying. It lands on the ground with a horrible thump and the man yelps like a beaten puppy as he gapes at all the blood beginning to pool around the entrance to the room, blending in with the plush carpet he’d custom-ordered from Russia.

"Or was it Gotou-san who had the lack of sense to  _order_  them to ready their sniper rifles at Akashi-kun?”

The temperature of the room instantly drops.

“Of course not,” Akashi chimes in and sits back, sinking into the soft leather of the sofa. The man has quite the opulent taste, Akashi will at least give him that.

“Well then,” he continues once the other man collapses into his seat as well. “Shall we get on with business?”

—

**09:13:48**

“You have a meeting with HSC corp. in two hours and forty-seven minutes,” Kuroko reminds his employer.

“I am aware,” Akashi replies, slipping off his tie. When he begins unbuttoning his shirt, Kuroko excuses himself, only to be stopped at the door. “I don’t remember asking you to leave.”

Kuroko silently turns around after locking the door again, pinning his gaze to a wall next to Akashi to avoid directly looking at him as he undresses. Simply a show of deference rather than any characteristic shyness, yet it still leaves Akashi amused.

“You look like you have something to say, Tetsuya.” Blue eyes meet his mismatched gaze head on this time. “I give you permission to share your thoughts.”

“If I may be so rude,” Kuroko wastes no time opening his mouth, “I would like it if Akashi-kun would stop taunting his enemies like that. It doesn’t suit someone of your noble upbringing to resort to such underhanded tactics.”

“It’s hardly a taunt when they’re the ones too weak to handle the truth,” Akashi protests lightly, but it’s lined with a clear tone of warning that makes Kuroko’s shoulders tense up.

“It makes my job a just a little more cumbersome,” he decides to be straightforward and Akashi seems to appreciate it.

“Ah, but then what would good would you be if I was cautious all the time?” He takes off his dress shirt; Kuroko’s there to hold it for him like a dutiful servant. “After all, what other use does Tetsuya have?”

Kuroko’s fingers twitch under the cover of Akashi’s clothes but his face remains impassive, a statue carved from stone.

Akashi still manages to see through the cracks, as he always does. “The look in your eyes isn’t unpleasant, but I expect you to remember your place.” He tosses a smile at his bodyguard before tugging at a small hand.

Kuroko finds himself sitting on Akashi’s bed. He nearly slips off when he feels the soft mattress sink with his weight.

Slim fingers trace the curve of his jaw and lift up his chin until he’s glaring at a pair of heterochromatic eyes, they’re gleaming red and gold back at him.

“Remember one thing and one thing only from now on: without me, Tetsuya’s existence loses all meaning.”

Akashi's gaze drops and Kuroko feels a hand trail down the side of his neck. “On the other hand, you look much better like this. Looking up at me from below, since that is where you belong. Am I wrong, Tetsuya?”

“No, Akashi-kun,” comes the automated answer.

Akashi smiles, satisfied. "Indeed, you belong right underneath me.“ He pushes Kuroko onto the bed. He leans over the shorter man, eagerness slipping into his features as he takes up the enticing task of unbuttoning Kuroko’s shirt, making sure to brush against the skin that appears in the space between the folds. Kuroko’s breath hitches at his throat, and he’s no longer stone in Akashi’s hands.

"Two hours, was it?” he murmurs, taking in the pale expanse of skin with unadulterated delight as he parts Kuroko’s shirt.

“And thirty one minutes,” Kuroko diligently corrects.

Akashi allows a fond smile before proceeding to unbuckle Kuroko’s belt.

(Two hours, Kuroko learns later on, is more than enough. Akashi is quick to disagree.)

—

**9:05:02**

People like Gotou never operate well under stress. It shows clearly on the nervous sheen on Gotou’s forehead, even more evident in the way his arm trembles when he reaches into his coat with a sweaty hand. He extols in his decision to come in armed today, despite the security of having a dozen men with their scopes trained on his guest. A meeting with an arms dealer requires surfeit measures of precaution. Though right now he weighs this as a last resort, a last shot at survival rather than a means of safety.

His decision to gamble for his life is the final nail in the coffin. He holds a breath when he feels cold metal and wraps his finger around it.

This time he isn’t graced with a warning as Kuroko angles his arm and pulls the trigger, splattering blood and grey matter over the white layout of the wall next to the body that’s now slumped over the couch.

The room falls dead silent for a few seconds, when a light clink fills the room as Akashi sets down his finished glass.

Kuroko’s nose crinkles slightly at the man’s choice of beverage early in the morning, but his tongue remains in its confines. He’ll get paid as long as Akashi Seijuurou remains alive and unscathed, any concern outside of the stipulations in his job description is not necessary.

Akashi uncrosses his legs to stand up, looks at his watch and says just two words, “About time.”

—

**11:29:59**

The driver promptly starts the car once his boss is seated. Kuroko’s sitting next to the boss in his usual getup of a loyal secretary. This white collar disguise has become so characteristic to Kuroko’s job these days, which more often than not involves playing along with Akashi’s quixotic whims.

It’s gotten to the point of him becoming the butt of ridicule every day from the rest of the group, Aomine in particular who won’t shut up about how “Tetsu’s better as Akashi’s little secretary than his bodyguard." Kise never fails to follow up with his irritating whining because petty jealousy apparently comes in shades of gold and he really wants a cute secretary like Kurokocchi. Laid-back as he is, Murasakibara joins in from time to time when he’s feeling hungry, and his mood often translates to a languid sort of resentment when he doesn’t find anything to eat. Kuroko of course has to take the brunt of it.

Right now, Midorima is the only one who allows him some space to breathe, albeit for unkind reasons. Kuroko’s company he avoids like the plague, usually murmuring something along the lines of 'unlucky people’ and ‘contagious luck’.

The worst offender by all means is Akashi. With those unnerving eyes he’s examined Kuroko down to the slightest shift of muscle. He knows what Kuroko likes and his tastes, but more than that he’s interested in what hits home. What strikes a nerve, which buttons should be pushed, where to poke and prod like Kuroko's a chessboard and Akashi’s playing against an opponent whose pieces have already been knocked over.

Like right now, as the two bask in the privacy of Akashi’s suite with a fancy lunch spread out on a crystal table.

"For someone who hates killing, your hand is always quick to reach the trigger,” remarks Akashi. The soft clang of metal rings clear with the message that Kuroko doesn’t care for backhanded compliments as he continues eating without a word. Though when he brutally stabs a boiled egg, Akashi has to hold back an amused smile.

“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he adds, quietly sipping at his tea once. “I have no use for people with all their years of experience in combat and none in killing.”

“Akashi-kun, I hardly think this is appropriate conversation for brunch.” He sets down his utensils on the side of the plate diagonally, to signal the end of his meal like the way he’s taught, to imitate the upper strata of society since that’s his usual venue for his modus operandi. The wealthy practice weird customs even while dining, he could never figure out why.

His boss—his owner, as Akashi prefers to call it—looks down at Kuroko's plate with a look of displeasure. Most of the white, elegantly patterned surface still looks as pristine as though it has never been touched.

“You’ve hardly eaten,” he says tonelessly, checking off another observation. He’s not one to reprimand outside any fumbles at the job, mostly from Kise and Aomine. He’s never been one to care more than that, allowing his men free reign for the most part.

“I’ve eaten enough to feel full,” Kuroko reasons. It’s a wonder where the blue-haired man—small and benign as he looks with the clearest sky shining in those big, brilliant eyes—reigns in that deadly strength of his. He’s no bulldozer like Aomine, his power is more refined, concentrated to a single point in which he pierces through instead of bruising or breaking his target.

“This is why your stamina is rather lacking.” Akashi reminds him, but it’s still too nonchalant for a scolding. The most fascinating aspect about Kuroko is his ingenuity in channeling his weaknesses into his greatest asset. Acting as incentive in developing unique ways to kill someone without lifting a finger. This was what had drawn Akashi to him in the first place, prompting him to purchase Kuroko on the spot.

“The final position has been filled in our team,” he’d announced to the rest of his bodyguards. That day was indeed quite special, Akashi mostly enjoying their reactions to Kuroko’s small, deceptively innocent form.

On reflex he looks at the calendar standing atop the bedside table.

It’s been a month since Kuroko’s become a part of his life.

“Today’s a special day, Tetsuya. You must set your reservations aside and enjoy the food I had them prepare just for you.” He speaks in a tone that provides no other option for Kuroko to avail. Any escape routes have now been closed off.

It’s true, Kuroko glances at the empty vanilla shake sitting on the table. These are all his favorites.

For a small fraction of a second a shiver runs down his spine. Why and how does Akashi even know all this?

If such is the case then Kuroko would rather not have the staff’s hard efforts go to waste.

He bows his head. “Thank you, Akashi-kun.” He then proceeds to meticulously arrange his plate with salad and tiny slices of meat. Neither of them say another word for the rest of the meal.

Kuroko tries to ignore the look in Akashi’s eyes as the man watches him nibble through the lavish display of food. It almost feels like he’s back home, his mother still alive and watching over him with a fond smile as he relishes in her cooking.

It gives him a rather giddy feeling when he accidentally catches Akashi looking at him in a similar manner, his head tilted and resting on his palm, gaze fixed on Kuroko’s face with the softest expression he’d ever allow himself.

Kuroko tries very, very hard to ignore the sting in his own eyes, gulping down a piece of carrot along and the intangibly warm sensation that follows. The familiarity—it’s painful.

There is no room for the past in his current life.

—

**21:47:01**

“Do you know why I’m an arms dealer? Knowing that the path I’ve taken will eventually lead to my death?” asks Akashi when they’re at the hotel rooftop.

Kuroko sticks to observing the man, his back tall and broad as he walks towards the edge.

“I have no grand reasons, Tetsuya. I simply wish to build a word where the dead can rest in peace.” He announces boldly, not just to Kuroko but the endless horizon that this building overlooks. Everything looks small from here, a fist would be all that’s needed to grasp the very dregs of humanity and crystallize it into his realm.

He turns back and smiles at Kuroko with serpentine eyes. “You are not required to believe me, of course. It would be wise if you didn’t.” His face loses all semblance of humor with his next words.

“Don’t blindly put your faith in any of us, Tetsuya.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kuroko asks without a pause, as if he didn’t just feel a chill run down his spine.

“You’ll learn in due time,” he speaks like an elderly sage. “Despite what I said…” Kuroko holds back the urge to flinch when cold fingers brush his cheek. “I do take pride in having you as part of my team, Tetsuya.”

With that, he walks off and leaves Kuroko awestruck and alone at the rooftop. The blue-haired man mulls over Akashi’s words in his head, staring at the woman who just tried to assassinate his boss, blood slowly pooling around her head.

_“I won’t ask you to trust us with your life, but you are part of us now. Be proud of your teammates, Tetsuya.”_

—

**23:50:32**

Kuroko warily stares into the soft golden glow that drapes over the luxury suite, and the man who sits gloriously in the center of it all.

The covers rustle lightly as Akashi shifts his legs, pulling one up to rest his head on. “Do you plan on standing at the door for the rest of the night?”

“It seems the hotel staff forgot to reserve a room for me,” he informs. He’s used to it, this is not the first time this has happened, given his low presence, but ending up in Akashi’s room is the worst of inconveniences he’d rather avoid.

“No, there has been no mistake.” Akashi looks at him with his eyebrows raised like he’s said the most obvious thing.

“This is a honeymoon suite I arranged for the two of us.” He pats the bed.

Kuroko wonders if this month’s pay is going to be cut for throwing a knife at his boss.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry R.I.P. Akashi


End file.
